Asleep
by AlekFoxx
Summary: Post Reichenbach Fall. What if Sherlock had actually jumped? What if Jim actually survived but suffered from it, being reduced to that of the mentality of a child? What exactly will John do in his situation? Winglock in part one and part four. EDIT: I wanted to make it longer. So... It will be. Still a TW for suicide though.
1. Chapter 1

As far as John had known, Sherlock and Moriarty had both died that day. He'd read in the papers the following morning that the consulting criminal seemed to have blown his brains out on the roof of Saint Bart's before his best friend had jumped. But it seemed incorrect. He received a text on his phone from Molly.

_John, it's about Jim… He's not dead. He's still alive. I don't know how he'd done it, but he managed it. He's comatose right now… - MH_

The Army doctor found himself enraged by the thought. How the man who had plagued his life as if he was a fly was still alive, but barely. Many times throughout the days, John found himself contemplating going to the hospital and suffocating the man in suspended animation, few days did he actually find himself outside the hospital room, knowing he could go in and pull the plug.

A month passed and Jim had awoken, though he seemed not know who many people were… Two months, nothing seemed to be getting better. Little by little, John found himself obsessing over Moriarty. He'd sleep restlessly, tossing and turning. He was upset. What was he going to do, exactly? On the anniversary of the third month on finding out about Jim, Doctor Watson found himself in the hospital late, sitting outside of Jim's room. The halls were dark, not much of a soul within aside from the secretaries sitting at the receptionist desks on each floor and night security. He'd ended up dosing off as he tried to plan what he was going to do to Jim.

"John…"

In his dream, he heard his name. His head snapped up, eyes blurred. He blinked a few times before he looked up to see that familiar face.

"S…Sherlock…?" He uttered gently, pushing himself up. As far as he knew, Sherlock was dead… How did he…? His brow furrowed, his head shaking. No, this was a lie… But the dream… It was feeling so vivid. That was when he saw them. Soft, yet large grey feathered wings stretching just slightly as Sherlock shifted to show them just slightly. That was when it clicked in the doctor's mind.

"… I never thought I would be the one to say this… But he needs someone. No one seems to be around for him and, aside from the nurses, no one goes into his room. There has been a tall man who has come by, but he never goes in. He always stands outside the door, it has happened several times."

"Sherlock… What are you saying…?" John uttered quietly, as not to disturb the receptionists. This was so uncharacteristic of the man… What was he plotting in his afterlife?

"This man," Sherlock went on, "I have reason to believe that he was once an employee of Moriarty's. He doesn't know what to do, from how he carries himself. But as far as I know, Moriarty needs someone. Thanks to me, you know more about him than most do."

"But Sherlock…" John seemed confused, his brow creased. Though he understood exactly where Holmes was going with this. "Sherlock, he strapped semtex to me and threatened our lives on multiple occasions. Yes, it was indirectly, but I… Fucking Christ, Sherlock Holmes! Do you think I can just forget that?"

"I know you can't… But with who he is now and who he was then, he needs someone. Trust me."

"Why, Sherlock? Why should I trust you? You could have let me help you! Instead, you leaped off of the roof of this Goddamned building! You put no consideration into how I felt about it!" John snapped, though he worked on keeping his voice low, "all the pain you've put me through… You were my best friend, Sherlock! No, you still _are_, and I think that's what hurts the most."

"… If I am your best friend… Then trust me. Consider it my dying wish. You can change him, John… I don't want to say this, not in the least bit… But he's lost who he was and has no one. You can remold him and help him become good. Show him emotion. You did me, after all. Before you, I never considered a single soul to be my friend," Sherlock said as his eyes burned into the shorter man's. John knew his words were true…

"… Fine."

The angelic detective pressed his thumb to John's head and he awoke with a jolt. The sun seemed to be rising. He pushed himself up… How long had he been sleeping there…? Regardless, he got up. Did that really happen? He blinked a couple of times before glancing into the hospital room, eyes squinted.

Jim still slept soundlessly. For a consulting criminal, he really did look innocent in his sleep. Then again, anyone had looked innocent in their sleep. Memories of the battlefield flickered into his memory. Comrades who had passed. Men and women he didn't know but was still affected by, who all looked innocent in their death. Sherlock had looked innocent in his death. The doctor shook his head and began to walk away. He'd be back in an hour or so…

And when he did come back, Jim was awake, absentmindedly watching cartoons, staring off into space. John bore two travel cups, both filled with tea. He cleared his throat and the man's head snapped, eyes looking at him, wide and curious. A grin spread across his face.

"Who are you?"

"I'm…" John furrowed his brow. "I'm John Watson."

"John Watson? That's such a simple name…" The corners of his mouth tugged into a slight frown. "I don't have a simple name. James Moriarty… I rather Jim or Jimmy though. Those are nice names… I like how they…" Jim rambled on. John's brow furrowed as he walked further into the room.

Jim seemed to be going on randomly before his vision snapped to John. "I don't remember much about you… You run a blog… You hugged me once." He said softly, smiling just a little bit. "… I liked that. I don't remember many people hugging me. I remember there was another man there too… But I don't remember what we were talking about. What were we talking about Johnny? I can call you that, right?"

That broke his heart. John's brow furrowed. The man really was changed… All it took was a bullet through the head that didn't sever anything that could kill him. John moved across the room and set the cups down, lifting the clipboard at the foot of the bed.

_August 25th. Patient James Moriarty has been awake for two days. Under observation, it seems he suffers from memory loss of both long and short term as well temporary loss of motor function. I'm not certain if this man will ever to go back to living normally…_

John's brow creased as he set it down and smiled softly. "Yes… Johnny is fine…" He almost regretted saying that. It was like Jim was a child again, though he knew he wasn't. He offered one of the cups to Jim, the man's face lighting up. "It's tea… So… You liked when I hugged you?"

"Yeah, I liked it a lot. I don't even remember mum or dad hugging me." Jim's brows had risen. "What were we talking about, Johnny? I remember I was smiling…"

"We were… Joking around." John lied, looking Jim in the eyes. Jim took a drink of the tea. The rest of the time together was spent filling Jim's head with stories behind what he remembered, whether it be watching Sherlock and John on monitors or talking to a tall man Jim had started referring to as Sebby.

The next couple of weeks were interesting. Jim had been relearning various motor functions; how to properly control his arms and legs, how to keep a straight posture, et cetera. John managed to pull some strings, the hospital allowing the man to live in the same household as the doctor after many promises of helping him get better. Another two weeks passed and the higher ups allowed it.

Though when living with the poor, broken man, John realized there were some things that Jim would need. After the first four days of hearing the man whimpering in the other room, before they went to bed, John looked at him.

"How have you been sleeping?"

"Not well, no no… Not well… Things talk to me, Johnny… Shadows dance across the walls, something keeps telling me that I'm weak… Johnny, I don't know what to do…" Jim admitted easily. John's brows furrowed.

"How about we try you sleeping with me? If it works, that's how it will be," John finally said. Jim's eyes lit up

"Really, Johnny?"

"Yes, Jimmy. Change into your pyjamas and come into my room tonight."

Jim scurried off and John went into his own room, quickly changing into shorts and a tank top. He laid down and it seemed seconds later, Jim had crept in shyly, stumbling his way to the bed but quickly sliding under the covers. At first, he kept himself far from John, but as the hour passed, John was jolted from his light sleep to feel the man scoot a little closer.

"Jimmy…? What's wrong…?" He whispered.

"… They're doing it again… Am I crazy, Johnny? I don't want to be crazy…" Jim muttered. His tone seemed to be heartfelt, regardless of how depressing it was. John wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

"Then come closer. I won't let them get you…"

Jim's arm wrapped around John and he nuzzled into the man's shoulder.

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise." John pressed a kiss to Jim's unusually messy hair.

After the blogger finally fell asleep with a softly snoring Moriarty in his arms, Sherlock had shown up in his dream again. He had that usual flat, bored look, but there was something about his eyes. It was like he didn't want to admit something. Both men stared at each other for a long time before Sherlock Holmes finally spoke.

"Good job…"

It was so uncharacteristic.

"What do you mean?"

"… You've done something no man has been able to do, John… You've changed a man entirely. So, I congratulate you. Good job." Both brows had risen. John looked to the man who was sleeping in his arms, smiling softly.

"You were right… Like usual… Sherlock Holmes, the genius of our time."

Sherlock just smirked, winking before disappearing, the dream John falling back asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The following morning was interesting. John and Jim had managed to tangle themselves in the blankets. Maybe it was all of Jim's wriggling through out the night. The slimmer man wiggled free, the grip of the blankets slackened from Jim's absence.

"Okay," John chuckled as he worked himself free. He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed, "We're going to have to figure something out so that doesn't happened." He smiled warmly at Jim. The man seemed far more energetic then he had the last few days. He immediately latched to the doctor, nuzzling.

"Thank you, Johnny… You keep the bad things away… I really like that…" He muttered quietly. John pressed a hand to his back. Sure enough, what trembles and jerks that were normally there were still. How a single night was able to do that was ridiculous. The blonde looked at the clock.

Okay, maybe they had over slept just a little bit.

"What are we going to do today, Johnny?" Jim perked up, finally untangling his arms and kneeling. His eyes were wide and curious, a smile across his face.

"We're going to… Go out somewhere. How does the park sound, Jim? Watch clouds, have a picnic?" John's brow quirked, the man-boy grinning and licking his lower lip as he nodded. The doctor laughed, "then go get ready, love." With that, Jim was out the door and into his own room, the door slamming shut queue of that.

—

After the pair showered and got sandwiches together, as well as a couple of thermoses filled with tea, they set off, hailing a taxi. Jim stared out the window, wide eyes catching every detail he saw, absorbing it. Some things were familiar, others not so much. He rested his chin on his knuckles, humming quietly. John propped his elbow on the door, fist pressing into his cheek as he watched the man pay no mind to the world and just stare out the window.

"Johnny, has the world always been this… Pretty?" He looked over his shoulder before resting his head on his hand.

"One wouldn't consider it pretty… There are disgusting things that happen, love…" John uttered softly, brows furrowed slightly. In turn, Jim's brows furrowed.

"Really? All the trees though… The birds. The only thing I don't like are the people. People were mean to me, Johnny…" He muttered softly.

"Everyone has their bullies, Jim."

"But I didn't have anyone to help," came a meek reply. John leaned over, pressing a palm to the crown of Jim's head and pushing him down a little, kissing the creased skin of his brow.

"You have me now, Jimmy love. I don't plan on leaving any time soon."

Jim smiled, nuzzling the doctor's chin softly. Slowly, the car came to a stop, John paid the driver and the two scanned the park for a spot. Jim grabbed John's wrist and lead him to a secluded tree that watched over the park. They sat in the grass, watching people before John opened the basket and offered Jim a sandwich. The two sat in a long period of silence as they ate.

"Johnny, why can't I remember much?" Jim asked, looking at John with his brows knitted in frustration.

"… Because you had an accident, Jim."

"That hurt my memory?"

"Very much so."

"Johnny, I want to remember," the broken man said, looking back at his half eaten sandwich, "… It feels like all the stuff you told me isn't true sometimes…" He took a bite, sighing through his nostrils.

"Love, just… Relax. Remember what you want. Memories may come back in time," John replied. Jim sighed and scooted closer to John, resting his head on the man's shoulder.

"… Okay…" He uttered softly.

Once they finished their lunch, John laid back, Jim using his shoulder as a pillow and they just stared up. Occasionally, the army doctor would point out clouds in ridiculous shapes, which caused what used to be a criminal mastermind to giggle. The two ended up falling asleep in the grass, though it was a light sleep.

By the time they had awoken, the sun was setting and the park was emptier. Now, it was young and old couples strolling along the paths. Jim rubbed his eyes, letting out a soft yawn.

"Johnny, can we go home?" He tilted his head. John chuckled softly and began to gather what they had left, pushing it into the basket.

"Come along, little duck," he said with a chuckle as he offered his hand down to the man, who took it and pulled himself up. To the nickname, his eyes had widened and he blinked twice.

"Little duck?"

"You follow me. You're like a duckling."

"I don't have anyone else to follow…"

"I'll always be here for you to follow, guide your steps and show you truth…"

With that, he guided the broken criminal to the entrance of the park, holding his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Each night, Jim seemed to rest more peacefully than the previous, though he'd cling to John, hiding his face in the doctor's chest to keep from seeing dancing shadows and terrifying beasts his mind imagined up for him. The two had grown used to sleeping together, John used to feeling the slightly twitching body, Jim used to feeling the army doctor's heat and clinging as if the man made the bad things go away. One morning, after two months of living together, John had slipped out of bed to make breakfast, unaware that Jim was going to awaken from dreams that shifted to nightmares as soon as he left the room.

Though once he heard a sharp scream while he was in the kitchen, going through the fridge as he looked for something to make, he dashed back to the bedroom. Jim had curled up, shaking, fingernails digging into his knees as he cried gently.

"Jimmy, love, it's okay," John cooed as he took his position beside Jim, who immediately latched, crying into John's chest. John sighed, "Jimmy, love, what happened?"

Jim cried and John rubbed his back slowly. As he calmed down, red eyes looked up. "I dreamed you died, Johnny… The shadows took you away and wouldn't give you back… I don't want to lose you, Johnny. I don't want to be alone again." Both hands reached and cupped John's face, both brows creased with worry as they pressed together. John wrapped Jim in his arms, hands rubbing carefully, eyes searching through Jim's.

"Promise you won't leave me…?"

"I promise, love. I'll be here… I'm sorry."

Jim nuzzled John, arms snaking around the army doctor, palms pressed flat against his back. The comfort he sought out was given to him. Soon enough, he pulled back and looked at John.

"… Johnny, do you love me?" He asked sheepishly, seeming almost scared of the answer. John's brow creased. After eight months, seven of which he cared for the broken man on his own. He looked Jim in the eyes.

"Of course I love you. Why wouldn't I?"

"You said you didn't in my dream… You said you regretted t-taking me into your home… You… Johnny, I love you… I… Would you ever say those things?" Scared, child-like eyes wide and uncertain. John's brow creased in worry.

"Never, Jimmy…" The army doctor's voice was soft, regardless of the slight lie. With who Jim was now and who he was then, there were great differences. Dark eyes looked at John, blinking and terrified, though the latter seemed to gradually seep away. He latched to John, legs tangling with the older mans almost immediately as he held him near.

"Johnny, thank you… You make the bad things go away… But when I see them… Johnny, does that make me crazy?" The broken man looked up to John, biting thin lips. That was the second time it had been asked.

"… No, love… You're just different." He replied gently, hugging the younger man close. Jim nuzzled gratefully, making little groaning noises as he kept close. The doctor felt bad… He had lied to the poor man. Of course the bloody man was crazy. But it wasn't like he seemed to remember any of it, his head now filled with false ideas from broken occurrences of the past.

"Let's go have breakfast, Jimmy," he uttered gently after what felt like at least half an hour of just laying there, not that John would bear complaint. Had he really fallen for the broken criminal? The one who could have killed him?


End file.
